Apollo
by Jadea
Summary: Arthur Weasley loves Muggles. But what if he had a crisis of faith? What could restore his belief in them?


Author: Jadea   
  


Dedication: To the crew of the lost shuttle Columbia, their families, and NASA. Those who have "slipped the surly bonds of earth."   
  


Summary: Arthur Weasley believes in Muggles. But what if, once, he had a crisis of faith? What Muggle event would restore it?   
  


Notes: This plot bunny has been in the back of my mind for months, but I was preoccupied with other stories. The events of February 1st called for this to be written.   
  
  
  


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High Flight 

Oh, I have slipped the surly bonds of earth 

And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings; 

Sunward I've climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth 

Of sun-split clouds -- and done a hundred things 

You have not dreamed of -- wheeled and soared and swung 

High in the sunlit silence. Hov'ring there, 

I've chased the shouting wind along, and flung 

My eager craft through footless halls of air. 

Up, up the long, delirious burning blue, 

I've topped the windswept heights with easy grace 

Where never lark, or even eagle flew. 

And, while with silent, lifting mind I've trod 

The high untresspassed sanctity of space, 

Put out my hand, and touched the face of God. 

-- RCAF Flight-Lieutenant John Gillespie Magee Jr. (1922-1941).   
  


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Molly sighed, brushing a lock of fire-red hair absent mindedly from her forhead.   
  


In the cradle near the window Bill slept, the soft rise and fall of his chest untroubled. Soft lullabies played from the radio; she had enchanted the device--which Arthur had given her for her birthday not two months ago--to broadcast only soft, soothing music when Bill was in the room. Even though sometimes it would malfunction, and Bill seemed to like the rock and roll songs better then the lullabies...   
  


A soft chime sounded and she glanced at the clock, wiping sparkling suds of her fingers with the fringe of her apron. Five-thirty. Arthur should be coming back from work soon, after another day at the Ministry.   
  


Hot tears stung her eyes but she blinked them back fiercely, cleaning the counter with a flick of her wand. Ever since Arthur had discovered those muggle magazines and newspapers on a raid...   
  


It had happened two months ago, around a week of two after Bill was born. A routine raid by the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts office had unearthed a veritable treasure trove of Muggle information, and Arthur had been in heaven. Magazines (with pictures that, strangely enough, didn't move *at all*) Newspapers, books. Clothes and radios and a thousand other things, including a Muggle television set. For weeks, when he had come home from work, Arthur had buried himself in the shed outside, examining everything with a rapt eye. Only Bill was capable of distracting him away from the Muggle information. He had prattled on to her for hours, marveling at their technology, their innovativeness. Their inventions and beliefs and capabilities. The things they could do without magic were truly remarkable.   
  


The change had come slowly. Instead of returning from the shed busting full of energy, he was solemn, thoughtful. He would avoid conversation with her, preferring to sit by the baby and watch the peaceful sleep of Bill's tiny form. He was so beautiful, their son. Only that seemed to offer Arthur any peace; his words and actions became strained. Instead of eagerly setting off to work in the morning he would deliberatley oversleep, dragging himself to the fireplace to Floo, no longer talking antimatedly about his day. She missed his stories, his conversation, his optimism. Sometimes he would come home from work with a few scathing remarks about Muggle inventions, words that could have come directly from Lucius Malfoy's lips. This wasn't *him.* This wasn't the Arthur Weasley she had married, who loved Muggles so much that he had turned down a far better Ministry job to start a low-level position at the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office.   
  


Finally, one night he had broken down and told her. The magazines and books and newspapers he had found in the initial raid..at first he had just marveled at them. The shiny surfaces, the frozen pictures, the dozens of advertisements. But then he had actually began reading them. And it broke her heart to hear their contents, because she knew it had broken her husbands.'   
  


War. War in Asia, in Africa, in South America. Hatred between the Americans and the Soviets, the Irish and the English, the Israelis and the Palestinians. War and hatred and famine. Sickness and disease. Riots and deaths and theft. The technology that Arthur had so marveled at, that the Muggles were so proud of, wasn't all refrigerators and televisions and automobiles. It was also bombs. Bigger and more powerful. Guns. Poisens. Chemicals that could asphyxiate and kill. The Muggles that her husband had devoted his life to, the Muggle way of life that he loved and was fascinated by, was a fraud. So Muggles didn't use magic to kill each other. They had discovered other ways.   
  


A quick brush of her hand over her eyes, and she caught the moisture on her eyelashes. It broke her heart to see her husband. It was as if his heart had been broken, as if something irreplaceable had been stolen from him. His eyes were dimmed, his posture slouched. Arthur had believed in Muggles, loved them and their ways, but now he went to work every day with a mournful sigh.   
  


Some hard, quick taps echoed through the kitchen and she started, hurrying to the window and untying it from around the tawny owls talons before shooing it away quickly. She didn't want it waking Bill; he howled like a banshee if he was woken too early from his afternoon nap. Honestly, with one like Bill, she wasn't sure how many more she could have. One, maybe two more. Three at the most, certainly.   
  


The clock struck again; 5:45. Arthur *should* have been home by now, the office had been closed for a good fourty-five minutes. He may have stopped off for a pint though; he had been doing that a lot more, recently. Sighing, Molly's quick brown eyes skimmed the letter the tawny owl had written her.   
  


By the time she had finished the letter, her eyes were wet with tears. This time, she didn't bother to hold them back, they slipped down her cheeks freely, leaving wet trails tracing between her light freckles. Impulsivley, she kissed the letter once, twice. This was *it*   
  


What Arthur needed.   
  


Molly had never, ever been so glad she had a second cousin who was a Muggle.   
  


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"Molly? What on earth's gotten into you, Darling?"   
  


Normally, after arriving a full hour and a half late, he would have arrived to a rather irate wife and a cold dinner. Instead, she had hugged him, kissing him on the cheek when he barely had both feet in the door.   
  


She smiled, watching his brown eyes closely. They were still too old; not at all the eyes she'd fallen in love with years ago, ages ago, by the fire of the Gryffindor common room. Playfully, she tugged on a few strands of his thinning hair before giving him a brilliant smile.   
  


"Arthur, guess what? I got a letter from my cousin today. Henry? The accountant? The Muggle?"   
  


Before, any mention of her cousin Henry would have resulted in a torrent of quick questions, the words tripping over each other. But now the word "muggle" brought a wince from her husband as he turned away to hang his coat up.   
  


"Really, Molly? And what did he have to say?"   
  


He tried to avoid her eyes but she refused, shifting in his embrace until the top of her head came just under his chin. How well they fit together.   
  


"Something remarkable is going to happen in the Muggle world tonight. Something truly amazing; something no one has ever done before."   
  


"What? Are they going to test a brand new weapon that can destroy not only the earth, but the moon as well?"   
  


If he had said it in any other tone, she wouldn't have been able to stop the sharp words on her tongue. But the way he said it was not bitter or angry. It sounded so defeated. Not like a Gryffindor at all...   
  


Instead, she slipped her arms around his neck, stretching up on her tiptoes and cuddling against his chest. Even with her face buried under his chin, she could sense his smile and she smiled herself, breathing in the scent of him. Her husband. Her wonderful, peaceful, giving husband. She would make him happy.   
  


She whispered the words in his ear, combing the tips of her fingers through his thinning red hair. At first he protested, vehemently. But eventually he agreed, and two hours later he had installed the Muggle television set on the top of their kitchen table.   
  


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"Molly! Molly, honey, wake up! Wake up! It's happening! Oh Darling, it's actually happening!"   
  


An excited voice was echoing in her ears, a firm hand was shaking her shoulder.   
  


"Molly, look!"   
  


It was more the voice then the shaking hand that convinced her to open her eyes. She hadn't heard Arthur sound like that in months; he hadn't been that excited about anything since Bill was born...   
  


Slowly her eyes blinked open, and she winced at the pain shooting through her neck. For some inexplicable reason, she had fallen asleep at the kitchen table...   
  


"Molly! Look! It's amazing, isn't it!"   
  


Shifting the soft weight of Bill in her arms, her eyes slipped over to her husband, his own face inches away from the Muggle television she had finally convinced him to set up.   
  


On the screen, something incredible was happening. A craft that reminded Molly unpleasantly of a gigantic spider was settling to the surface of a dusty, barren rock. Squinting over the top of her husbands head, she could barely see the impression in the ground as the metal structure settled to the ground.   
  


"Arthur honey, move. I can't see the screen..."   
  


Holding his breath her husband did so, pulling back a from the screen a few more inches while, at the same time, slipping his hand over hers, tangling their fingers together.   
  


On the black and white screen, the door of the metal-spider-structure opened and a figure stood, outlined in the door way. A huge white suit covered his body, a shield of some sort obscured his face. The fingers curled around Arthur's tightened, and she gently smoothed a bright red strand out of Bill's sleeping face with her free hand.   
  


"That's one small step for man..."   
  


"One giant leap for mankind."   
  


The figure in the white suit with the small American flag sewed on the shoulder stepped down, his steps bouncing high against the surface of the moon.   
  


For what seemed like the thousandth time that day, tears were gathering in the corners of her eyes and wetting her lashes. It was amazing. Incredible. Like nothing she had ever imagined.   
  


No wizard had ever been to the moon. There was simply no way to Apparate; it was too far. Floo powder was useless without a fireplace or a fire; there were no Portkeys.   
  


"They did it, Molly." Through her tears she saw Arthur's expression, the same joy and awe she was experiencing reflected in his beautiful eyes. "Without magic. Something no wizard has ever done. They did it with their technolgy, with their desire."   
  


"Did you hear his words? The..." Arthur fumbled for words, trying to think of something to describe the figure that had changed the world. "The suit-man? The man who took the step? 'That's one small step for man, one giant leap for *mankind.*' "Mankind," Molly. Not just Muggles, not just Americans. All of mankind."   
  


She kissed him then, running her fingers through his hair before pressing her damp cheek against his. His own fingers began to curl through her hair, his lips kissed the crown of her head, but his eyes stayed focused on the small, flickering, black and white screen.   
  


"Look at them. They're amazing, aren't they Molly? Muggles, I mean. If they can do this, completely without Magic...there's so much they can do, so much they're capable of. It's not just war and death and destruction...they're trying to make the world a better place. And we can help them Molly. We can. I can't wait to go to work tomorrow. There's some new books and things called "records" we've been going over...you'd like this group called the Beatles, Molly...   
  


Eyes closed, she rested her head on his shoulder, rejoicing in the warmth she heard in his voice. The desire. The excitement. The joy had returned to his eyes; she could feel the contentment in him. Arthur *believed* again.   
  


Smiling, the first of her seven children cradled in her arms, Molly Weasley drifted off to sleep.   
  
  
  


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I've never written a fic this fast, or tried to blend real life events into one before. I'd appreciate your reviews. 


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